Damn Me: A Paranormal Demon Romance (The Demonology Series Book 4)

by Felicity Brandon

  Her thoughts were transmitting loud and clear as well, coming as fast as her breaths as she took in the new environment I had transported us to.

  Where are we? The question leapt from her mind, though evidently, she was too afraid to vocalize it.

  “It was time we left the comfort of the bedroom,” I answered, sweeping her up into my arms and carrying her the short distance to the place I had in mind.

  We were in the clearing of a woods I had enjoyed when I was a much younger immortal, a scene of many a ritual once upon a time. Glancing about the place, images of those memories burst into my head, the ceremonies that had taken place, the trials, and the sacrifices. I smiled at the reassuring thought, crunching through the layers of colored leaves underfoot. Naturally, Cathy was still naked, so we couldn’t dwell for too long, but the sun was managing to gleam through the canopy of trees high above, and the air was warm. I reasoned we could stay long enough to teach her a lesson in what happened to wicked little Guardians who disrespected their masters.

  “Why are we here, Master?” She squeaked the words at me, but I suspected she already knew the answer. I had not made my intentions a secret, though no doubt, she hoped I had forgotten the warnings I had issued.

  “To set the record straight,” I answered without meeting her concerned gaze. “You recall what I said would happen the next time you were rude and disrespectful?”

  Her muscles all tensed at the same time. “But I wasn’t rude, I—”

  “You were not rude?” I feigned shock at her response. “You do not consider telling me to fuck off as somewhat disrespectful, then?” I glanced in her direction, watching with satisfaction as her face blanched. “Because even to me, that seems rather offensive.”

  Cathy blew out a breath. “I wasn’t thinking when I said that,” she admitted, her small hands clinging to my biceps through the silk shirt which adorned me. “I’m sorry.”

  “No doubt.” I sounded upbeat as I found the perfect spot to tame her fiery will. The clearing was large, and exactly as I remembered it, though some of those large oaks had matured in the centuries that had passed. I identified one enormous trunk that had fallen to one side and strode toward it. “And you will be, little Guardian. I am going to teach you what happens to little mortals who fight, complain, and cuss.”

  “You’re going to spank me?” She twisted in my alarms, her pretty features screwed up with alarm. “You really mean it?”

  “Yes, Cathy.” I resisted the urge to smile at her plaintive tone. “You were told what the consequences of your actions would be, yet still you insisted on insulting me. What would you have me do? Should I bend my will to meet your insolence? Should I change all the rules I set down just to suit your mood?”

  “No.” Her gaze lowered, and as I followed it, I too took in the look of her pebbling nipples. Perhaps it was the outside air that had provoked the response, but the blush at her cheeks was enough to persuade me it could also have been the admonishment. “It’s just, no one has ever spanked me before.”

  “It is overdue?” I suggested, placing her down on the dry leaves before I settled on the tree trunk.

  “Must it be here, master?” Her gaze whipped around the clearing, searching for signs that there would be any spectators to witness her ordeal as one hand rose to try to cover her modesty. I smiled at the gesture, unsure why she was worried. I had seen everything the delectable little human had to offer already.

  “Yes,” I concluded. “It was time you had some fresh air, and I have wanted to revisit this place for centuries. Rest assured, though, no mortal soul will see you unless, of course, you behave so badly I decide to add that shame to your tally.”

  Cathy’s eyes widened. “Please, no.”

  “Best you keep it in mind then,” I replied. “Any sign of resistance and I will reconsider my plan. I can conjure an entire audience at the flick of my wrist. I can be cruel, or I can be kind. The choice is yours, Cathy.”

  “I’ll be good.” She swallowed, as though the verdict was a revelation to herself.

  “Over you come then.” I gestured toward my thighs. “Stretch out over me. Hands and toes in the leaves and spread your legs. I want contrition from you, Miss Bateman, and believe me when I say—I will have it.”

  Trepidation flickered across her face at my demand, but no protest left her lips as she edged forward, taking in the enormity of my request. Of course, I could grab her wrist and yank her down over me, but I always found it more ravishing to make the mortal submit of their own will. To step forward, knowing what was expected of them and what they would have to tolerate—that was where true enjoyment was found.

  “Does making me wait seem like a good idea?” I lifted my head to regard her flaming face, and impulsively, I reached forward and pinched the delicious-looking nipple nearest to my hand.

  “No, Master, I’m sorry.” She hopped from one foot to the other at the sudden hurt but refused to meet my eyes as she neared, bending at her hips to sprawl over me.

  Grinning, I watched as she settled into place, just as I had asked, long, pale limbs tense as she tried to discover any comfort in the position.

  “Why do you find yourself here, Cathy?” I ran my palm over her upturned ass, squeezing the orb roughly. One day I would fuck that peachy little ass and make it mine.

  One day, but not today.

  This day was about delivering a penance to the insolent little Guardian. It was about just desserts in an unjust world.

  “I was rude to you, Master.”

  She sounded forlorn at having to admit her misdeed on top of everything else she was being forced to endure. In reality, I had shown the mortal compassion, not that she recognized it. I had brought her somewhere tranquil and private. I was choosing to only use my palm for this, her first spanking, and I was affording her the most comfortable position in the circumstances. Any one of these factors could be tweaked to amplify her plight if it suited me, not that you would have known that from Cathy’s body language. Tense and uncertain, her thoughts screamed of her humiliation and my callousness. There was no flicker of gratitude, no acknowledgment of her culpability.

  That would have to change.

  “Yes, you were.” I agreed. “Today will be the first and last time you speak to me that way, young lady. You may possess power in your realm, but where I come from, you are merely a butterfly, pretty and amusing, but nothing more. I keep you because you fascinate me, but do not assume that appeal is endless. If you do not show me respect, my view can change.”

  My other hand ran an invisible line up the length of her back, pausing at her shoulder before it dipped down to play with the breast, now dangling past my left knee. She was delectable, and in truth, I saw no feasible way Cathy’s allure would wear thin, but she did not know that. As far as she was concerned, my threats were not idle. They were deadly serious, and that was how I wanted her to view them.

  I lifted my chin to take in the splendor of the view. It was rare for a creature like me to experience the joy of the natural world. We were usually forced down to the netherworld or spent our time among the mortals in towns and cities. This was a rare pleasure indeed, and now it was increased exponentially by the wonderful woman who was strewn over my lap.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Master.” Her reply was immediate.

  “If I am forced to teach the lesson again, know I will not be so courteous to you.”

  Releasing her appetizing backside from my grasp, I raised my palm in the air, hovering it there for a moment before it came crashing down onto her vulnerable skin. Cathy inhaled, the sound almost lost on the breeze, which whipped by at that moment, and as I lifted my hand, a beautiful pink outline of my fingers was already visible.

  Spanking her again, I began a flurry of smacks, each raining down on her hard in fast succession until she whimpered at the intensity.

  “How many, Master?” she panted as I paused, her buttocks clenching as though they could prevent the onslau
ght.

  “As many as I say so,” I clarified. “You are spanked until your ass is rosy, and your mind is contrite. There are few sights sweeter than a punished backside, especially one as tempting as yours.”

  I did not wait for her answer, striking her prone ass again, this time catching the underside of her cheeks, at the place they met her thighs, and because her knees were splayed, each new smack caught the edge of her pussy. She winced initially, fidgeting a little as though she was trying to dodge my palm.

  “Do not think to defy me, Cathy.” I ensured my voice was as hard as my palm. There could be no doubt of my intent while I punished her. The mortal’s job was to submit and learn the lesson, not set the pace, or decide when or how the punishment was delivered. “If I want to spank this cunt as well as this ass, then I shall. Have you got it?”

  Her body tensed at the latest smack, her toes shifting aimlessly by my side while her tiny hands clenched in the dry leaves at the other. “Yes, Master.” For the first time, I sensed genuine pain in her voice, the sound spurring me on. “Yes, I’ve got it.”

  She had not, of course. Cathy was not even close to understanding, but watching her limbs dance to the rhythm of my palm, I knew it was going to be a pleasure helping her learn.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cathy

  Had there ever been ignominy like this? Bared and compelled over the lap of not just any old brute, but Satan himself—the most supreme fallen angel of all—I was humbled by the unrelenting barrage of his palm. Each strike was different. Some harder and more difficult to tolerate, others struck at more sensitive spots, forcing shocked gasps from my mouth, but none were easy to bear, and he never allowed me to slip into any sort of routine. The rhythm was ever-changing, the pace cruel and unkind, and I soon lost count of the number of smacks I’d received. The increasing count had started out as a comfort, but as it rose with no sign of slowing, it only frayed at my nerves, as the question lingered, would I be able to cope? Could I be stoic in the face of this penance, or in the end, would I break and beg him to stop?

  Not that I expected mercy. Demons were not known for their compassion, but I hoped to anything holy that still recognized my voice, that it wouldn’t come to that. I had to be strong in the face of this adversity. I owed it to whatever part of me had wanted to resist his temptation, to Sevvy, and to all the women in my family who had nurtured my bloodline and found strength in our inner light. I had let them all down so badly. As his hand walloped my ass, the thought occurred, perhaps I did deserve this spanking. Not because he said so, of course. Not because some ancient evil had decided I’d disrespected him—that was insane. I had no choice but to survive the affliction, but that didn’t mean I concurred with his line of thinking. Yes, I had been temperamental and rude, but it was no more than he deserved. He couldn’t rule me with tyranny, no matter how much he reddened my ass. However, the way I had ceded to first Damon, then Satan, suggested there was very real guilt on my part. A responsibility to my kin that couldn’t be shrugged away. I pressed my lips together, bracing for the next smack and trying to dismiss the sting of tears in my eyes.

  I didn’t care if he could read my mind and realize they weren’t for him. I wasn’t prepared to take the chance and offer him the enjoyment.

  His palm shifted, this time catching my sex rather than my burning behind, and even though it was not the first time he’d struck me there, the change of tack caught me off guard, eliciting a tiny mewl from my mouth.

  “You like that?”

  I imagined the smug expression on his face, my toes curling as my indignation spiked, and fleetingly, I envisioned just how much trouble I would be in if I told him to go and fuck himself again. Panic pinballed as I remembered, once again, that he could well have heard the thought for himself, my breaths coming in short pants as I flustered. “No, Master.”

  He laughed, the sound giving me no clue about whether he’d processed my latest offense. “You are certain?” he probed, smacking my pussy even harder.

  My back arched at the impact, my body rising, despite his palm at the small of my back.

  “Settle.” Just one word, but it was enough to placate me, my body slumping forward into the leaves again. “I asked you a question.”

  I breathed hard at his query, trying to process the myriad of sensations his hand was producing. Naturally, the sting of his palm was the most pressing matter, the way my flesh burned with every impact, and the image of myself turned over him, my ass inflamed to three times its usual size, but beneath the layer of hurt, there was more. More feelings, more senses to process.

  “Yes, I think so,” though even as I spoke, I wasn’t sure, my brows knitting with confusion.

  If it wasn’t only pain I was experiencing, coupled with the blatant humiliation of being naked and pulled over him like a child, then what was it I was processing? The answer came to me with the next blow, the edge of his palm grazing my needy clit before it rose back into the air.

  It was pleasure.

  As crazy as that sounded in my mind, it was slick arousal welling at my core, threatening to spill onto his striking palm and humble me further at any moment. I liked it! Some perverted part of my brain was experiencing the pain and translating it into hot, sexy hedonism, and even as I fought to catch my breath, I could hardly believe it.

  “You think so?” he chuckled at my tangled state of mind, and for the first time, I was grateful he could just reach in and help himself to the information. I’d have never been able to articulate it for myself. I couldn’t even grasp the notion privately yet.

  Striking me again, his free hand traveled along my back in an almost tender way. “We talked about the truth, did we not, little Guardian?”

  “Yes.” I was breathless now, my back arching of its own accord as though it sought the sting of his hand. “Yes, Master.”

  “So, grant me the favor of it, Cathy. Tell me if you like your cunt being spanked.”

  My eyes squeezed closed at the burning embarrassment of his demand. “I think I do.” I forced them out somehow.

  “Good.” For once, there seemed no malice in his response, only a genuine pleasure in my response. “That is most pleasing. Perhaps if I was to spank you this way, you would come apart for me, eventually.”

  The power of his palm pushed my body against his leather-clad thigh, the friction swelling my desire, just as his plan awoke some salacious facet of me that craved that release more than I would have admitted.

  “Yes, Master.” I wanted to cringe at how needy I sounded, and I might have had the burgeoning lust not fogged my brain. “I would like that.”

  “Would you?” His dark laughter echoed around the trees once more. “But this is a punishment, little mortal, not a route to pleasure. I should not allow it.”

  Please.

  I sent the desperate plea to him in my mind, though pride prevented it from leaving my lips.

  Please, spank me until I come.

  It was all I could focus on as his hand crashed down again, just in the perfect position, surely, an indication that he planned to take pity on me and satiate this need? Yet still, there were no assurances of his objective, no further words—nothing but the relentless smack of his skin against mine, the sound reverberating around the strange clearing, like some ethereal orchestral score.

  Hot with need, I resigned myself to my situation. My fate would be whatever my master deemed it to be, but whatever the case, he seemed determined to punish me thoroughly and without pity. The spanks rained down, an endless volley of colliding flesh, draining the power that remained in me, and as I remained strewn over him, my future was suddenly clear, laid out in front of me.

  Satan could treat me this way whenever he chose to. Sure, I could fight and complain, but I couldn’t prevent the punishments. I didn’t have the physical presence, and I sensed with each blow, he was sucking away my spiritual strength from my overwrought body, too. He’d push me if he wanted to. He’d make me bleed, scream, and crawl if
that was his choice. The pain would make me crazy, the promise of pleasure even more taunting, and all the while, I would be powerless—a writhing mess of confused arousal, half terrified at his dominance, while the other half of me begged for more, for relief, for the release of all this pent-up lust and surrender.

  There would be no reconciliation.

  No hope.

  No chance of survival.

  Only this neverending game of cat and mouse, immorality and feigned resistance, trial and punishment.

  “You want to come, Cathy, do you not?”

  Of course, I wanted to bloody come! Even if he couldn’t read my mind, my squirming and breathless performance must have been evidence of that much.

  “Yes, Master.” It was almost painful to have to concede the point, the reality that he held more than just my freedom in his hands. He held my peace of mind, as well as my access to pleasure and any ability to find succor in the onslaught. “Yes, please.”

  “How much?” His voice was demanding. “How badly does my little Guardian want this release?”

  I clenched my jaw at the mortifying question, thankful I didn’t have to meet his gaze. “So much.” Christ, was that my voice? Was that pathetic little whimper the only remnants of the woman I had once been? “Please, Master. Please, let me come.”

  He chuckled, his hand catching the underside of my ass beautifully.

  That was it!

  That was what I needed.

  Just a few more of those would be enough to send me flying over the precipice into whatever constituted heaven when you had fallen this low—low enough to find yourself a wet, writhing mess over the lap of Satan.

  Again. Hit me again! I sent the demand to him in my head, panting as I willed his palm to continue, and somehow, as though I’d done enough to earn his favor, he obliged me. His hand collided with the same spot, the coil of pleasure tightening as he edged me higher.

  “Again?”

  “Yes, please, Master.”